This Is Not A Test
by Sinan
Summary: Cleansing, killing, curing, what's the difference? To the dynamic duo composed of twins Luci and Raum, there is no difference. The Purge exists to cleanse society and souls of malevolence and the downtrodden. It is a release and a reaping, provided once every year by the New Founding Fathers...May God be with you all.


EEEEARRT. EEEEAARRT. EEEEAARRT.

"This is not a test."

The emergency broadcast system is loud through the house. To me, it's music. To others, it's a bell tolling, warning them that their time is up. I can't help but smile. My fingers tingle as I dig through my closet, looking for what I want. What should I wear this year? I can hear the voice that reads the warning every year.

"This is your Emergency Broadcast System announcing the commencement of the Annual Purge, sanctioned by the U.S. Government. Weapons of Class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted. Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity from the Purge and shall not be harmed." My voice echoes the woman's droll tone as her pre-recorded voice scrolls through the text that flashes on every screen in the city—in the country. If you have a television that receives signal, you're seeing the ever so boring blue screen that they flash every year.

Honestly, I can't stand the way they do it…so fucking ordered and controlled. Yet, this is how things are, and this is how things have been since 2022. The New Founding Fathers gave us a way of fixing the bugs in our system. Personally, I love it. We partake in the Purge every year. Truly, what better way of getting out all of our pent up frustrations and angers is there? There is no better way, I tell you now. My brother and I partake in it every year. Everyone should, honestly. The Purge is so much more than just a way of cleansing ourselves of bad thoughts. It keeps society…living and free of disease. During the Purge, the poor and sick and weak and helpless are weeded out and hunted down. Most of the killers out there just do it to free themselves of their negativity that ruins their days…but then there are people like my brother and I. We do not rid ourselves of anger. We hunt. We kill for sport. Every year. Some people call us crazy…but most people just call us Luci and Raum. Well, that's our Purge names, anyway.

I finally decided on what I wanted to wear. I pulled on a pair of rainbow striped leggings (my absolute favorite pair, too, since, you know, tonight is special and all), and a white tank top with a dark purple sleeveless vest. I already had on a mass of bracelets that ranged in color from the darkest of purples to the brightest of yellows and everything in between. My earrings were nothing more than gold rings that graced each ear, shimmering loops that went through my cartilage in several places. Once dressed (aside from shoes) I sauntered into the bathroom and did my make-up. Oh yes, nothing but the best for our prey tonight! My make-up consisted of a fair amount of cover up as well as golden eye shadow and thick eyeliner. I covered my lips in cherry red lipstick and made a smooching face at myself in the mirror. "Perfection," I cooed in my honey voice. A lot of people call me conceited or even narcissistic. Honestly, I just love myself and how I am, that's all. I'm tall, blonde, tan, and look great in colors. My sun bleached hair falls down in a sheet of daffodil yellow, the bangs chopped just above my eyes and the rest of my hair cut in nice and neat layers. Once I was satisfied with myself on this, the night of the Purge, I left the bathroom in search of that bastard I call a brother.

"Raaum-yyy!" I call out, holding my hands to my face to project my voice louder. I look down at my nails and make sure they're okay as I trot through the house. Oh, my shoes. I need my shoes. My nails are just as yellow as my hair, and it took three coats of paint to get them that color. Where are my shoes? Damn it, why can't anything be where they're supposed to be? I search through the house for the damn shoes and my damn brother. Fuck them both, I'm about to go out and do this on my own. I plop down beside the back door of our two story home and begin to put on my shoes once I had found the fuckers. I love my shoes. Don't get me wrong, I love colors…but I love black, too. And my shoes are just that. They are combat boots that nearly go up to my knees and add about three inches to my height. I love these shoes because they make me taller than my brother and make me so much more intimidating. At least, I think so. I don't care if they don't exactly match, and if you disagree, I dare you to come hither to me and let me stop that meek head of yours with the heel of these sexy babies that I call shoes. "Raum! Damn it, I'm going to fucking leave without your ass!" Now that's not entirely true. My brother and I are a team. Raum and Luci. Luci and Raum. Satan and her demon. We do this every year, and everyone knows us around here. No one fucks with us.

Once my boots of death are on, I lean down and pick up my scythe. Yes, a scythe. I wield a scythe. It's my favorite toy. What is Death without his scythe, after all? It's heavy, sure, but I have muscle. Way more muscle than those pathetic blondies that linger around town. I work out. They don't. I run, too. Like I said, I love myself and I love my body. I take damn good care of it. Raum does, too. He just doesn't really look it. Well, he does. And he doesn't. Ugh, I don't know how to explain it. He's just so…lanky? Yeah, lanky. He's as tall as I am with my boots on, and he's every bit as muscled as I am. But unlike a well-rounded woman, he doesn't have the ass or the chest that I have. He's all skin and bone, really, and his weight comes from the muscle gathered at his arms and legs and abs. Don't take this the wrong way, but my brother is pretty hot. At least, I think so. And yet, he still doesn't have a woman in his life besides me. His personality isn't as colorful as mine is, and I blame his singularity on that. Oh well, that's his problem. "Raum!" I bellow, getting irritated as I bash the end of my scythe against the tiled floor. My brows pinch in anger and annoyance as I wait, hand on hip, scythe in other hand. Where is that fucker?

It seems like hours before he makes a damn appearance, and when he does, I smile, my movie star white teeth showing as I take in his image. Unlike me, Raum prefers to wear black, white, and gray. I'm not a fan, but it matches him, so I let it slide. Besides, it would look weird if my twin wore colors the way I do. Everyone would mistake him for some homosexual weirdo who lives with his sister. But we are twins, after all, so it's not that weird is it? I mean, we're both twenty-five years old and we're basically mirror images of one another save for the male/female bodily differences.

"Come on, you dolt! I want to get this fucking party started, don't you?" I asked him as I tapped my foot harshly against the solid floor. He gave me a look as he walked down the stairs. He was dressed interestingly tonight. He wore black jeans that looked nearly as tight as my leggings, and he wore boots, too. Not nearly as cute as mine since his had these weird metal buckles that ran from one end of the shoe to the other. He had a black leather jacket (an expensive one, too, so you know it's nice) and a gray v-necked t-shirt that hugged his body nicely, showing off what was beneath the fabric. At his waist, he had a white belt and a scabbard that concealed his sword—his choice of weapon. Honestly, I think swords are overrated and boring…but who am I to say that to him? He knows what he's doing. He's been doing it for years, just as I have. "Are you ready to go hunting yet?" I ask him as he steps onto the ground floor. He nods in response and looks up at me, his icy blue eyes holding my gaze with practiced ease. We both have those piercing blue eyes, and we both have the beautiful blonde hair that I love. His hair is cut in a more choppy fashion, and it's much shorter than mine is, cropped close to his head and yet, long enough to be pleasantly disheveled and still have that stupid "bed-head" look that actually looks decent somehow. His ears are pierced, too, but instead of gold rings, he has silver, the opposite of mine.

"Good. Tonight is going to be fun," he say to him as I stalk up to him, running my finger over his cheek for a moment before I twirl around and head for the door. As we walk out, I hang a simple sign on our door. It reads "Fuck off. Violators will be burned at the stake." And I mean it, too. We have a stake in our backyard, a post, really, and I have burned someone there before. The smell of flesh lingered, even though the Purge had been over for hours after his body was reduced to nothing but disgusting looking ashes. I mean it when I threaten someone. And everyone around here knows it. The guy I burned had been unlucky enough to be in our house when we came back home. So I burned him alive. Logical, right? Of course it is.

Raum nods to me and we leave. The darkness had already fallen, the sunlight having disappeared only minutes ago. It's 7:30pm. Everyone is in their homes or on the streets, looking for fun. I grin and grab my brother's hand with my free one. Only then do I notice the fingerless gloves that cover his hand. I like them.

We really must look like quite the pair. Me in my colors and bouncing appearance, and Raum in his straight-laced and darkly clothed image. Complete opposites and yet…identical twins. Oh, the irony. We couldn't be more different in personality, though. The thing we have in common, however, is that we both thirst for violence; modern day Purge vampires that creep in the shadows. Actually, that's a lie. We don't hide. We stroll down the street like we own it. And no one crosses our path. We're the deadly duo, and no one gets in our way.

"Happy Purge, everyone!" I call out as I look around and wave to any neighbors that might be peeking through the blinds or security cameras. "Are you excited?! I am! Tammy, I love the flowers!" Blue flowers represent our support of the Purge. Tammy always has the most extravagant bouquet ordered every year, and she outdoes everyone else on this street when it comes to floral décor. Raum and I don't do that shit, though. We leave black roses at our door. We do support the Purge, but we want everyone to know that we do things our own way…the roses are a warning, not a supporting symbol. "Have a safe night, everyone! Don't come out or it's off with your heads!" I smile and laugh as he walk down the street, and I let go of Raum's hand soon enough, just to clutch my scythe with a grip that might bend the metal of the shaft and leave indentions of my claws. I grin widely and my eyes shift towards Raum, just to see that, too, is smiling, ever so faintly. He is controlled in ways that I'm not. He's better and containing his emotions for the most part, but I know my brother well. The little ghost of a smile is just the beginning…I can see the madness behind his dead eyes, just as he can see it in the way my cheeks glow and teeth show.

"The fun has only just started…"


End file.
